Chapter 26
SCARLETT
I can’t focus.
The library is quiet, my peers studying with their headphones on, scribbling in their notebooks or working out some complicated math equation on a piece of scrap paper, and yet I stare at the same paragraph discussing architectural theory and how it explores the ethical foundations of design.
I can’t stop thinking about Cross–my freaking stepbrother.
I can’t stop thinking about how I don’t care that he is my stepbrother.
This morning, I talked Sawyer into going to his lacrosse scrimmage, blaming it on the fact that I promised his mom that I’d take videos of him playing so I could send them to her.
It was a total lie. I wanted to go to his scrimmage so I could watch him play, like some little fan-girl.
Ugh.
He totally noticed me too, all the way from across the field in the brisk, cold morning fog. His brown eyes squinted as they snagged onto me leaning across the chain-link fence. His lip curved, and his cheeks, rosy from the cool air, hitched upward to show his amusement—or worse: his satisfaction.
I made sure to dodge him afterward, and I’ve been hiding out in the library most of the day, unsure of what I’ll do if I’m alone in the house with him.
I clearly can’t be trusted, and if fucking me while my father was on the phone has anything to say about it, Cross doesn’t really care.
I’m in the middle of reading the same sentence I’ve tried comprehending three times now when my phone buzzes on top of the table. I grab a hold of it quickly, the vibrating pulling a few eyes in my direction.
Cross: Where are you?
Energy surges to my fingertips, and my lip immediately sucks into my mouth, my teeth clamping hold of it so I don’t smile like a fool.
Me: Training with Jim.
I’m only trying to piss him off so maybe he’ll be the one to put distance between us, because, again, I can’t be trusted.
Cross: If that were true, he’d never walk again.
Cross: Try again. Where are you, Scar?
Scar.
I don’t know if he’s calling me that to gain the upper hand in our little argument or if he’s doing it to desensitize me. It should be concerning that I’m sort of okay with him calling me Scar, just like I should be concerned with the fact that I like him wanting to know where I am.
Does he want to know because he’s still cagey about the SUV following me around? Or does he want to know because he can’t stop thinking about me too?
I sigh and type something neutral.
Me: I’m safe and sound, studying.
I’m not telling him where I am.
If he wants to find me, he will. If he’s just concerned about my safety, then I’ve reassured him.
I click my phone off and toss it into my bag in an attempt to clear my thoughts so I can actually absorb the words I’ve been reading for an hour. I scribble a few notes and then flip the page, only for the book to close directly on my hand.
A sharp gasp leaves me until I spy the intricate, black ink tangled together beneath the sleeve of the forearm in my sights. I glare up at Cross and pray he can’t read between the lines.
“I told you I was safe and sound,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “No need to show up to check on me.”
Cross slowly pushes the book toward the middle of the table, causing my hand to slip out from the brittle pages. Cross hooks his finger around my hair, pushing the strands back behind my shoulder.
“I’m not here to check on you,” he admits in a low, gritty voice.
Tipping my chin, I meet his face as he lingers behind me. “Then why are you here?”
His gaze lowers until his eyes fall to my mouth. Something hot spreads to my chest, and my stomach twists with that same familiar ache I only feel with him.
Cross says nothing, but he doesn’t have to.
His face says it all. The warm color of brown in his eye shifts into something darker, something hotter, and before I can convince myself otherwise, I slip my glasses off, scoot my chair back, and stand.
I glance around to make sure no one is eyeing us as we walk toward the back of the library, our elbows grazing just enough to send my hairs erect. I keep walking, Cross taking my lead, until we end up at the farthest aisle in the library where mostly unused books are stored.
It’s darker back here, quieter. There aren’t any listening ears or wandering eyes.
“So, why are you here–” My sentence is cut off by Cross’s hands around my waist. He presses me against a bookshelf and peers down at me with a hooded gaze, his perfect lips slightly ajar. His hands disappear from my hips, and he grips the sturdy shelf beside my head, trapping me in place.
I whisper his name while tipping my chin to peer at him. “Cross.”
He shuts his eyes, his jaw flexing. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?” I ask quietly.
He pins me in my spot with a hot glare. “With conviction,” he presses. “Like you’re warning me.”
My heart is beating out of my chest, my pulse thrumming, eager for something neither one of us should really be partaking in.
“I probably should warn you…” My back arches as I push my chest onto his. “But that depends on why you’re here.”
I suck in a sharp breath as he cups my face with force, his fingers tangling within my hair. One slight pull against the strands and my mouth would be on his.
“You know why I’m here,” he says.
A neediness digs into my bones. “Say it.”
The bookshelf creaks from Cross’s firm grip beside my ear. I watch in awe as his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip.
“I’m here because I’m fucking desperate.” He bounces his gaze back and forth feverishly.
“For what?” I whisper.
His eyes narrow, his mouth a breath away from mine. “For you, Scar. I’m desperate for you.”
There’s a pressing need in his tone. It’s quiet but prominent, and although I know I should deny him, I do the opposite.
I lean forward, and he takes the bait. Our lips collide, a quiet moan slipping off my tongue as he ambushes my mouth.
The kiss is deep, his tongue halfway down my throat, like he’s afraid I’m going to pull away.
I’m not.
I’m letting him have his way with me because there’s a charge in the air that tells me he needs this. That he needs me.
He breaks our kiss and moves his mouth to hover over my ear while pressing his hips into me. “Let me have you,” he groans.
I nod once, just barely, but he catches it.
He quickly flips me around and pulls my pants down to mid-thigh.
“Grip the shelf.”
I do as he says, my legs trembling with need.
Cross centers himself between my legs from behind and angles my hips for access. He rubs against me a couple of times before easily slipping inside. He catches my gasp with his mouth, and we’re back to kissing again.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
In the library.
With my stepbrother.
It’s so hot.
“God, you’re soaked,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Is indecent exposure your thing?”
“I’ve…” Cross’s hand winds around my stomach to dip below my navel. I bite my lip, the words disappearing. “I’ve never…”
He groans and pulls out of me slowly while rubbing fast circles on my clit. Fuck.
“You’ve never done this before? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
I whimper and nod.
Cross hisses behind me, his thrusts getting faster. “Wrong thing to tell me because fuck, the thought of being your first makes me lose my mind.”
His teeth sink onto my ear, and he pulls on the lobe. His hot noises fill my head, sending my body haywire with a powerful orgasm.
“Cross.” His name is more of a gasp, and thankfully, he slaps his hand over my mouth to drown out my cries.
It only takes a few more thrusts for him to still, pressing into me deeply.
We only stay like that for a few seconds before he’s pulling away, leaving me wet and messy. He spins me around, a hazy look driven into his eye while he kneels to pull my panties and pants back to their rightful spot.
I bite my swollen lip to keep myself from smiling, but I know he notices.
He takes his hand, the same one that was in between my legs, and frees my lip. It plops out from behind my bite, and he winks at me before turning and stalking out of the library, leaving me with wicked thoughts and a sated body.
My cheeks are still warm to the touch thirty minutes later as I pack up my belongings.
I linger on the book Cross shut on my hand and shake my head, trying to hide a smile.
Damn him. His taste lingers, and the hungry way his hands skimmed my skin left behind a touch of rebellion I never knew I needed.
I couldn’t concentrate before, and I surely can’t concentrate now.
I hurriedly push through the library doors, eager to get home just to see if he’s there.
The elevator dings, and I step forward, a smile playing against my lips at the thought of later. I turn and press L before gazing at myself in the reflection.
God, look at me.
My wavy hair is a wild mess, framing my pink-stained cheeks and puffy lips. I glance away with a giggle on the edge of my tongue when someone stops the elevator with a black gloved hand, keeping the doors apart.
I straighten my spine and act nonchalant, as if they’re going to know the dirty things I did in the library with my stepbrother thirty minutes prior.
“No need to hide that pretty face from me.”
I jerk my chin upward, my teeth clanking together. My eyebrows furrow together as I eye a man dressed in cheap clothing with an even cheaper gold chain hanging below his thick neck. Once he sees that he has my attention, he smiles smugly at me to reveal his yellowing teeth.
“Care to go watch your boyfriend get the shit beat out of him?” He hits the close door button of the elevator, and from the width of his body, there’s no chance I can reach the emergency button.
“Boyfriend?” I repeat, playing coy.
Who the hell is this?
Did Nicholas send him? Is Nicholas telling people I’m his girlfriend?
“Don’t play stupid with me, Scarlett Wallace.”
The way he says my name sends me spiraling. My throat closes with anxiety, my heart racing behind my tight chest. I suck in air when his grimy hand wraps around the strap of my bag, but I’m quick to pull on it to let him know that I’m not okay with the manhandling.
“Let go of me,” I hiss.
The elevator dings, and I pray someone is waiting on the other side of the door.
“Not until we get to the fight. Your little boyfriend…” The man pauses to chuckle. “I mean, stepbrother…owes us a fight, and let’s just say that you’re collateral.”